Under the Tree
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Written as a story challenge. Not a Christmas story.


A trickle of sweat traced its path down Hannibal Heyes' spine. A cool breeze rustling the leaves of the huge cottonwood tree towering over him chilled the moisture and triggered an involuntary shudder. The man in front of him lifted his head from his task and gave him an ugly smile.

"Nervous, Heyes? Don't worry none, it'll be over in no time. 'Course, it'll seem like a lifetime to you." Cackling nastily, he resumed his task deftly wrapping the rope around itself creating a loop out of the sturdy cordage.

Heyes' eyes locked on the grimy hands as he experienced his own mortality with a morbid fascination. He could hear the others as though they were under water or far, far away. Wispy ghosts of words reached his ears, but dissipated without penetrating the ringing in his mind. Every nerve in his body was alive, seizing his muscles in a futile attempt at flight, but he was caught; caught by his own arrogance.

"Now for me, it ain't gonna last long enough, nosiree, but I'll do my best to draw things out. Give you a chance to dance for us." Glancing up at his prisoner, the gap-toothed man grinned again. "You see, I figure I owe you big, Heyes. If'n it weren't for you and your pals, I'd still be workin' for the railroad. Me and Sally'd be hitched like we planned instead of her dumpin' me for that rich lawyer's boy. Guess it shook her some when I lost the ranch, but what could I do? You wiped me out takin' my job and my money when you stole that big bank shipment. Don't have a pot to piss in now. Chew on that for a while, why don't you? You don't never think about the little folks, do you? Nope, not a big, bad outlaw like you. You just go on about your business, never giving no mind to who you hurt along the way. Yep, the Devil's Hole gang sure put a kibosh on my life, so I'm gonna return the favor." He paused hoping for a response, but cold eyes stared back.

The man's words shamed Heyes in a way he wouldn't have thought possible, but there was nothing he could say that would change things and he'd be damned if he'd go out a coward begging for a mercy he hadn't earned. He and the Kid had always known what they were doing but neither one of them allowed themselves to think too hard on it. They weren't stupid or mean, just amoral. Nobody ever gave them anything so they'd taken what they wanted and damned the wreckage they left behind. A tiny, ironic smile curled one side of his mouth softening his hardened visage. Well, he guessed he was being given what he deserved after all.

"You think it's funny, Heyes? Let's see how funny it is when you're danglin' in thin air," growled his tormentor, looping the noose over his head and snugging the knot up tightly, pinching some of the fine hairs on the back of his neck. His heart leapt into a headlong gallop as his chest muscles strained to hold it in place. He could feel his bladder urgently filling as he willed his body under control. "Yessirree, it was my lucky day when I spotted you comin' outta that saloon like you owned the place. That ten thousand dollar reward's gonna go a long way to squarin' us up and, best of all, you ain't gonna be causing no more misery for no one."

"Willard, shut the hell up and get a move on! We ain't got all day," shouted an older, gray-haired man astride a tall horse and holding the reins to a strawberry roan. Another mounted man waited nearby, his gun held casually in his hand as he rested his arm on his saddle horn.

"Keep your pants on! I waited a long time for this day and I ain't lettin' no one hurry me up." Willard circled around Heyes, pausing to lean over his shoulder from behind and whispering in his ear, "My, my, my, the great Hannibal Heyes brought low. You got anythin' you wanna say before your purty face turns purple and your tongue don't fit in your mouth no more?"

For once words failed Heyes, his infamous gift of gab missing in action. Heyes stared resolutely at the hot, arid landscape before him. The dry canyon dotted with sage and a few trees, here and there, like this one. It hadn't taken much for his captors to track him through the sandy soil. He'd been uncharacteristically careless; his mind worrying over his partner's delay in joining up with him in Trinidad until he'd decided to ride out and meet up with the Kid on the trail. Despite all those rough years of outlawing, he still fussed like an old maid when his cousin was late. Well, he was about to pay for his lack of attention.

Folks were always going on about how smart he was, what a fine imagination he had. No one but the Kid understood that his brain was a double-edged sword. It swirled with words and ideas milling about like a terrible diarrhea of consciousness never giving him any peace. Even now, at the penultimate moment, he couldn't stop thinking of what was going to happen next. Not the hanging, that he couldn't, he wouldn't think about, but later after it was done. He pictured his body hanging from this old wizened tree, swaying gently in the strengthening breeze; bloated, his hat lost, his clothes filthy, unrecognizable from his capture. Would the Kid know it was him as he rode by or would he avert his eyes from the poor devil who'd gotten hung like some bizarre ornament? He hoped his partner rode by.

"Nothin' to say, huh?" Disappointed, Willard tossed the end of the rope up but it failed to span the branch, snagging on a twiggy limb. Cursing, he yanked it roughly until it snapped free and slid to his feet. He bent to gather it up and try again while his companions hooted their derision and waited impatiently.

Heyes closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly, willing his body not to betray his fear. He was truly grateful to be alone. He wouldn't wish this on any one. Should he pray? Could he pray? He didn't think so. He and his ma's good Lord had parted ways not long after her passing. He doubted he was about to meet his maker. More likely he'd be sent in a different direction.

His shirt was soaked now and he felt insufferably hot. Was it strange to think about discomfort at a time like this? His eyes flew open and his hearing went from muffled to keen as Willard succeeded and the rope grew tight. Turning his head, Heyes watched his former victim walk over to the roan. His knees weakened as the man swung into his saddle. Looking away, he clamped his jaws shut with a force that nearly shattered his teeth as the last thing he heard was laughter and a loud yell. The noose yanked him into the air, pain screaming through his entire body as his feet spontaneously kicked out. His head pounded and the blackness crept in from the edges against a rapid recitation of memories and thoughts, wonderful as well as horrific, until finally his mind was blissfully silent.

oooOOOooo

Pain.

"Heyes?"

Light.

"Come on, Heyes, wake up."

A gentle pat on his face.

"Dang it, open your damned eyes!"

His mind snapped alert. The Kid. How? Heyes' eyes opened slowly, the weight of his fear fighting him, afraid of what he might see. The grayness lifted, his focus sharpened, and the familiar face floated in front of him. He tried to speak but only a dry squeak emerged.

"Don't try to talk. Just rest." Relieved, Curry sat back on his heels and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He was having a hard time accepting what had just happened. He'd found Heyes' horse a mile or so back and had assumed he'd find his partner on foot, bruised and angry, his ornery nag having finally succeeded in dumping him. Instead, the sight that had greeted his eyes as he crested that rise would never be forgotten. The three riders; the rope; Heyes suspended.

Instinct had taken over. He didn't remember firing any shots, but the rope had been severed and his partner had plummeted to the ground as the smell of cordite drifted from his gun barrel. The men had disappeared as though they'd never been. The Kid was grateful for it. He would've killed them stone cold dead if they hadn't. His stomach had roiled with a bitter acid as he'd dismounted near the body. Sickened by his loss, he'd dropped to his knees and rolled Heyes over. Only then did he realize his cousin was alive, a tiny wheeze of breath the only indication.

He got to his feet and fetched his canteen from his saddle before walking back to Heyes. He knelt again. Pulling off his bandana, he wet the cotton cloth thoroughly and held the fabric to his partner's lips. "Here." Heyes sucked the material weakly wringing the moisture from it. "Easy, that's enough for now." Exhausted eyes closed and the shaggy head lolled back against his supporting arm. A raw circle of flesh peeked from Heyes' frayed collar. He'd almost been too late. Another minute and Heyes would've been dead. Bile rose to his mouth but he choked it back down. They had to get out of here. That necktie party would be back as soon as they realized he was the only rescuer. If they caught him, murder would be added to his crimes. He pulled Heyes up with him as he rose, sliding him onto his shoulder. It took a few minutes to wrestle him onto his horse. Curry reached for the reins to mount up, but stopped when he saw Heyes' hat lying in the dust half-hidden by a scrubby bush. He held onto his unconscious friend and led the horses to the battered object. Picking it up, he pulled off his own Stetson and slipped the stampede strings over his head before replacing his hat. Climbing carefully up behind his saddle, the Kid wrapped his arms around the still form and urged his big bay on, leading Heyes' gelding.

oooOOOooo

A snap of the fire roused Curry from a light doze and his eyes instantly went to Heyes lying quietly next to him on his saddle blanket. The color had come back to his cheeks. His breath was whistling noisily but steadily through his cracked lips. Reaching out, the Kid laid a tentative hand on his chest feeling the strong beat of his heart. It had taken him most of the day to be satisfied that he'd lost any pursuers and he'd been afraid it might've been too much for his partner.

Brown eyes looked up at him blankly. The Kid could almost see the questions forming. "We got lucky, Heyes. Again."

"Thanks," whispered the dark-haired ex-outlaw. He was quiet for a few moments. "What kept you?"

"Didn't you get my telegram?" Heyes barely managed to shake his head no. "I had to detour to Taos to pick up some papers. Lom's orders."

Heyes' hand reached up to his burning neck feeling the balm the Kid had rubbed in.

"It shouldn't scar." It wasn't the prominent welt worrying him; it was the unseen wounds that might prove troublesome. Heyes fell asleep again, but he sat staring at the fire.

Another close call. They'd had too many already. How long before the worst happened? They were trying so hard to go straight, but all they were doing was risking what little security they had by drifting around the West without a gang at their backs. It's probably what the law was hoping for. Hold that amnesty out like a carrot and let fate do the rest. Well, he was done with it. He'd talk to Heyes once he was feeling up to it. It was time to call it quits. The price was too high.

Making his decision, he settled back against his saddle and let sleep claim him.

oooOOOooo

It had been hours since they'd stopped briefly to relieve themselves and the Kid had been worrying the whole time. Heyes had barely said a dozen words since he'd found him. It wasn't like Heyes to be silent. He had a gift for talking himself into or out of just about anything and not talking at all was a very bad sign. Curry knew he was hurting. He'd seen how hard it'd been for his partner to mount up this morning and he'd watched him grow progressively weaker as the day wore on. Normally, Heyes would've been complaining the entire ride about his back hurting, or his neck bothering him, or whatever else was eating at him. But he hadn't made a peep and this time the Kid was pretty sure what was eating at him, he could almost hear his brain working overtime.

Maybe he should bring up the amnesty, take Heyes' mind and his own off what'd happened. The amnesty had been his idea, he'd pushed for it and it had nearly cost him everything. He was sure it would cheer Heyes up thinking of all those safes to be cracked, trains to be robbed, figuring out how to do it all. They'd go out together in a blaze of glory.

Yes, usually he couldn't get a word in edgewise, so maybe now was the time. "Heyes, hold up." The chestnut gelding stopped sharply and Heyes slapped leather, gripping the horn with white knuckles. "Let's rest for a minute."

"Can't get down; won't get back up." A fine bead of perspiration dampened Heyes' forehead and his pale face was etched with pain.

"All right then. Let's give the horses a break. We need to talk."

"Talking's kind of hard right now," rasped Heyes.

"Fine. I'll talk, you listen." The Kid swung out of his saddle and stretched his back. "Heyes, I've been thinkin'…" His partner mustered up a smirk. "Don't say it. I'm serious. I've been thinkin' about the amnesty."

"Me too."

"You have?" relieved, Curry smiled hopefully.

"Yeah, I have." Shifting in the saddle, Heyes rubbed his back. "You know, it was the last thought I had before…well, before you found me."

"So you want to quit, too?"

Heyes stiffened. "Quit? We've come too far to quit."

"What?"

"All I could think about was how ashamed I was I've wasted my life on anger and revenge." Taking in his partner's astonished expression, he hurried on painfully croaking, "Don't you get it? What if I got to see my folks again? What've I ever done to make them proud of me? I was dying without getting a chance to set things straight. I knew then I'd wanted the amnesty more than anything and I'd blown it."

"I thought it'd almost killed you."

Heyes frowned, considering his answer carefully _._ "It almost did, but it also knocked some sense into me."

"It did?"

"Kid, I've been thinking all day about the second chance I've been given. It's a gift I ain't taking for granted. We're gonna get that amnesty or die trying."

"All right, Heyes. We'll keep goin' as long as you promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"If we have to die, we do it together," said the Kid solemnly.

"Agreed, partner. Bad things happen when we separate, but you've gotta promise me something, too." Heyes grinned at his best friend, a twinkle returning to his strained eyes. "Promise you aren't gonna make me talk again for a while."


End file.
